The Pirate and the Commodore
by Splendors Of A Landslide
Summary: She had two choices: to live or to die. She was supposed to be a Sparrow, and all Sparrows must fly free without a care weighing down their wings. The Commodore knew everything that he needed about her. So when he gave her the choice of turning in her brother, turning her back on her family name in order to turn her back on the 'P' on top of her wrist—how could she refuse?
1. A Pirate's Life for Me

_**A/N**_ _: Hey everybody! New Pirates of the Caribbean story that I've been wanting to write for a really, really long time. I can't really tell you though why I thought this was a good time to post it, since I have a crap ton of work and finals, and such, but hey, that'll be over soon and recently I've been wanting to write more. So here I am, doing just that with a new change of pace: A James Norrington/OC story! I hope you all enjoy it, please read and review, and I'll see you soon :)_

 _ **Full summary**_ _: She had two choices: to live or to die. She was a Sparrow and all Sparrows must fly free once in a while, without a care weighing down their wings. The Commodore knew everything that he needed about her. She didn't need to tell him how her brother and her father were ashamed of her, how she was an embarrassment to the Sparrow name. He knew that she wanted nothing more to not be a Sparrow any longer—to finally make a name for herself._

" _Do we have an accord, Miss Sparrow? Your brother, Jack Sparrow, for your clemency?"_

 _She stared at the hand, unsure, and a little afraid too. But…she was never meant to be a Sparrow._

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. Everything that you see belongs to Disney and whoever else involved. However, I do own Gwendolyn Sparrow, the plot, and everything that you do not recognize from the franchise._

 **Rated T for language, drinking, and mild adult content. If there is a chance that the rating would be changed to M, you will be notified well before that happens. As of right now, this story is rated T and I have no plans in changing it.**

* * *

 _A Pirate's Life For Me_

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me."

She took a swig from her bottle of rum. A nice, long swig as she basked under the sun's rays that hit her already tan skin. She squished her dirty toes in the sand as she lowered the brim of her tricorne hat to try and expel the sun from her eyes. After another swig, she sang, "We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Not only did she drink up, she had gotten up. Gwendolyn Sparrow gripped her hat tightly along with her bottle, tripping over her feet as she tried to dodge each pebble and shell that was in her way. "Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack." Gwendolyn chuckled as she stumbled again, walking along the beach. "Drink up me—," she hiccupped and threw her bottle up in the air while holding it by the neck, "'earties, yo ho!"

"Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!" Gwendolyn laughed loudly as she took another swig of her rum. The water rolled onto the shore, brushing against her feet as she continued to walk along it. Gwendolyn looked over at the waves with a wide grin. She loved this song! Ever since she was a kid she loved this song, she would sing it and sing it until her throat was dry and until her brother would tell her to shut it.

"Yo ho, yo ho a pirate's life... a pirate's life..." Her singing though trailed off to a stop. Her eyes caught a single ship on the horizon. Gwendolyn narrowed them, trying to recognize it as what looked to be black sails billowing with the wind. Was she dreaming this?

Her vision was blurring and she wasn't sure if she was seeing anything correctly. The ship looked to be all over the place. Actually, the painted black ship looked to be in three places on the water at once. Gwendolyn squinted her eyes to at least see the same silhouette of her brother's ship. But to her dismay, the blurriness of the ship only worsened.

She scoffed at the, " _Black Pearl_ ," and even stuck her tongue at the proposed ship. Gwendolyn took several steps back before she took a swig from her bottle of rum; she swished the liquid in her mouth before swallowing it. "Ha ha ha!" She made a ball of sand in her hand, (a drunken, messy ball of sand) and then threw it toward the _'Black Pearl'_ angrily. She hated that goddamn ship and the Captain of that goddamn ship even more!

Jack Sparrow. Yes, _the_ Captain Jack Sparrow was her brother, and _yes,_ she was the sister of _the_ Captain Jack Sparrow— _the_ younger sister. At the age of twenty-eight, she dealt with him for... well, twenty-eight years and counting. She would at least see him once a year. No more, and no less. She was content with that—and you would be too, the bloody man wasn't exactly the crème de la crème.

He would come to her for money, to borrow things, and sometimes _even_ to get information (like she would know any). She used to live on Tortuga, working in a tavern called the _Cantina_. When Gwendolyn had gotten enough money, she relocated to Spain... actually two days ago she arrived-she worked on a crew of her friend's in order to gain passage. And she was already sick of it. Spain was beautiful, yes—sí. But drinking on the beaches with no friends could become boring.

She wouldn't be surprised that Jack didn't know she was there, in Spain, which could be why that his ship, if that were _really_ his ship, sailed right past her. That was why she left Tortuga anyway, to get away from _him_. It was hard living on an island when all the whores on it with broken hearts had slept with your brother. She'd take all his shit from them while he would sail Scott free—literally, too.

Gwendolyn smirked as she downed the rest of her bottle of rum. Ah, rum. It was truly a God sent during times like this. It was the only thing that she could depend on, really.

When she finished, she stumbled backward dropping the empty glass bottle. "I love this land," she shouted, twirling around in the sand with her arms out wide. "Whoa." Gwendolyn stopped as the world around her began to spin. She looked down at the sand as the ground beneath her twirled as she had done before.

She was unconsciously swaying. Gwendolyn made a face at the ground and asked it, "Why are you spinning?"

Gwendolyn's eyebrows perked as she bent over to study it further. She actually went to go touch it, but found that it was still. She murmured, "Curious." Gwendolyn made a quick turn to see if the _'Black Pearl'_ was still there, but the ship disappeared.

Slowly, she made her way toward the shore, her eyes narrowing. The _Black Pearl_ was a fast ship-she knew that, of course-but it wouldn't sail out of her sights that quick. How strange. Then without warning, her body swayed to one side too much and she collapsed onto the ground. She lay there for a while, staring up at the cloudless, blue sky with her hands folded on the top of her stomach.

Gwendolyn did feel the bile build up in her throat, her chest tightening, as her stomach was making weird noises as it flipped. She tried to put it to the side. Gwendolyn couldn't tell how long she laid there, but it was long enough for her to be surprised with the pounding of boots.

They were quickly approaching her; it sounded like a hundred pairs at most. Though they surprised her, she didn't move. There was nothing that she could really do, and even if she _did_ move, she wasn't going to do anything to stop them. She was too drunk, and her stomach would hardly allow her to do anything. No, they would either trample over her or go around her. Either way, she didn't really care.

Soon, though, the boots stopped. Her brow furrowed as she heard them gather around her, almost forming a perfect circle. Not only did she hear the boots gather around her, but she also heard something like weapons being cocked and pointed. Gwendolyn hoped that was not the case. A pair of boots took several small steps towards her, stopping right at the side of her face.

For a moment, she was frozen. Gwendolyn listened to the silence that surrounded the circle she was in the middle of and was just a little disturbed by how eerie this was. The sounds of the waves rolling onto the shore did not help. It didn't give her any solace.

At first, she turned her head toward the closest pair of boots. She caught glimpses of the bayonets directed at her, but she was going to be as calm as a cucumber still. She looked up to see a Spaniard looking down at her with a disgruntled sneer on his face—she couldn't tell if he was an Officer or not. He probably was. But she didn't want to label him as such yet. Gwendolyn glanced down at his boots before pointing and touching the shine on them. "Oh, 'ello. Me apologies," she said, making an effort to stand up and face him, but when she sat up she felt her body sway. Her finger was up as she leaned all of her weight on her other hand to get up-but she only failed.

"I'd speak Spanish now, but I can't speak." She gave the Spaniard a wide grin, looking up at him as the gold caps on her teeth shined. The disgust on his face spoke it all. He spoke quickly in a language that normally she'd understand. The men around her lowered their weapons, and before she was able to make a comment, he lifted up that shiny boot and gave her swift kick to her face.

Gwendolyn's face was thrown to the side; the sound of her nose cracking seemed to echo in the air. Her hand immediately went to aid it, but both of them were pulled away before she could. She was brought onto her feet, and the sharp tip of a cutlass was pointed at the crook of neck. She faintly felt the blood trickle onto her lip. Her nose wasn't broken, but a bruise would most definitely form there. If he kicked her directly in her nose, then he could have broken it.

They tried to talk to her, and ask her something, but Gwendolyn wasn't able to process it. Her head was barely being held up and the cutlass' tip was hardly doing its job to scare her in staying awake.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. She eventually couldn't take it any more. The man was getting more and more frustrated with her one-worded answers and she was just waiting for them to take her into prison. That was where she was going to end up anyway, prison, she didn't know why they were stalling.

When it all became too much, she shouted, " _Fine_ , I'm a fucking bloody pirate! Pull up me sleeve and you'd see, yo soy una pirata!" To even add to that point, she gathered all the moisture she could in her mouth before spitting it in the officer's face. It did not make him happy. Before she was able to take back what she did, the butt of a bayonet had hit her in the back of the head.

She yelled out before her head lurched forward. She closed her eyes tightly as the resonating pain made her head hang. Soon, the sounds of the ocean and the birds that were hovering over her disappeared. Then Gwendolyn Jailbird Sparrow felt her feet being dragged in the sand as the soldiers took her away.

* * *

 _Three Weeks Later_

It was sickening in there.

Gwendolyn walked around her small cell with her hands on either side of her back. Her eyes were scanning everything around her, looking at every nook and cranny that could possibly get her out.

Unfortunately, there was nothing. "Chica, you are not gonna get out of here," the man in the cell next to her said. Gwendolyn took a deep breath, closing her eyes and putting her hand on top of her forehead. Francisco was a friend of hers for... the duration of a week, but right at that moment she did not _need_ to hear his voice. He needed to go away.

"I'm a Sparrow," Gwendolyn said, walking to the bars of her cell. Her hands gripped them, feeling the cold iron against her calloused skin. She sneered, noting the rust that coated the bars. Though rusty, they did seem strong, strong enough to actually keep her in there. "I can't be held in this cage for much longer, mi amigo. I need to get out of here."

"A Sparrow?" Francisco asked. She sighed, knowing that he probably didn't know what that meant. Her brother wasn't known in those waters. "You look like a person, girl."

"I am a person, Sparrow is my last name," she replied, looking up at the ceiling, pushing against the bars to see if the top of them would move. They didn't. Not really to her surprise. Her hands fell down as she searched the hall of the prison for any guards. So far, no one. She probably had the hour before they would make their rounds again. "And my family is pretty well known," she said, dropping down to her knees to look for something, anything, that would help her with the lock. She bit her bottom lip, extending her hand to reach the only thing that was on the floor-a plate. It would probably be of no use to her.

She carefully moved it into her cell, turning it straight to pull it in through the bars. Gwendolyn went on to Francisco, "Not in your seas, but along the Spanish Main... which is why they have me here, and maybe why they haven't killed me yet. I think your government wants to hang all of us together." Too bad they didn't know, or cared, that she was there. She hadn't heard from her father in a decade and her brother only cared for her when she would be of use to him.

She stood up, holding the ceramic plate and letting the sun catch it. She shook her head. "I cannot believe this, there's no bloody way to get out of here."

"I've told ya, chica, if there was, I'd be long gone."

"Aye, you and all your wrinkles," Gwendolyn shot back. She plopped down on the ground, hearing Francisco grumble to himself about her. She didn't care because she was right. The man's skin was sagging from the weight of his eyes and also was dry and spotting. His once black hair was mostly gray and his clothes were rags, hanging off his limp body. "Maybe I could break it over one of their heads when they come to bring me my food. Do you think that'll work?"

"'Till they catch ya."

"Shut up."

He muttered under his breath, "Ella es una tonta."

"I know what you just said and I am not," she snapped. She heard Francisco say that he meant for her to hear that, and then heard him shift away from her. His back was to her cell, which meant that he would most likely leave her be. Gwendolyn flipped the plate in her hands, examining it. Actually... she could probably make some sort of plan with the use of this plate.

She hated saying this, but she was a Sparrow. She should be able to get out of this... and...she knew exactly how.

Gwendolyn suddenly heard boots walking down the prison hall. Several prisoners already had gotten up, causing quite a bit of ruckus in order to be noticed. Their hands were extended out to catch the glimmering keys on the guard's side, but they weren't the smartest tools in the shed. They didn't have the wit, unlike her, to get out. She kicked herself backward, using her boots to push herself toward the ledge of stone that was to be her bed. She looked for her hat, placing the plate tentatively underneath it, and held it on top of her lap.

Gwendolyn tried to figure out quickly how she was going to get the guard in there. She was going to get him in there so she could smash the plate over his head. Once he'd be crying over the pain, she'd steal his cutlass from his side and point the edge at the very spot she knew would be fatal. She wouldn't kill him though. She'd rather kill the Commander that bloodied up her nose-now, he surprisingly didn't break it, but that wasn't the point, savvy? He bloodied it up, and that was all that mattered.

After that, she'd take his keys, contemplate about letting Francisco free, and strike down any guard that was in her path. Hell, she might let all the prisoners out and cause a riot. She could burn this whole place down if she wanted to as well.

Bloody hell. Her plan was flawless. If she weren't pretending that there was no plate on the top of her lap, she would be beaming.

The footsteps were getting closer. Her fingers drummed against the brim of her tricorne, waiting for the guard to pass Francisco's cell so she could yell out some obscenity. She could pretend to be doing some ancient spell, some juju that her mother could have taught her before she died. She could pretend that she spent all of her life on the island of Puerto Rico, instead of just five years and then relocating to Shipwreck Cove with Teague and her brother. Or she could pretend someone threw a curse at her, she would make her body spasm across the hay, make them confused and then try and help her, but then—.

It was too late. Her excitement had gotten the best of her. The guard walked past her cell with not even a glance her way. Gwendolyn's shoulders slumped realizing this.

Francisco laughed from the other side, irritating her. She glared over to the cell next to her—the old man was ruining his chances. She was not going to help him now once she executed this amazing plan of hers. He would be the only one in the prison, as everyone else would be released.

She had the slightest temptation to hit his side with the plate, but she decided against it. She was going to need it later.

Angrily, she tossed the plate aside, hoisting her knee up and letting her head fall against it. "I need to get out of here," she whined. She couldn't take it any more. If there was a God, if there was _anybody,_ she was going to pray to them. She didn't care how, she didn't care for what reason, all she cared about was to get out of there by whatever means.

But the moment the prayer escaped her she regretted it.

"Is this her?" She heard someone ask. Her head shot up from her knee, her hands immediately falling on top of her tricorne to promptly place it on her head. There was her and another woman in this prison that they brought in yesterday. The man, well, she assumed it was a man based on the deep voice, was not in her sights. She heard a guard say no, making her eyes widen.

Gwendolyn turned her head toward Francisco, whose mouth was open and eyes were practically bulging out of his head. He looked over at her, in shock, but did not say a word. Gwendolyn, in response, only childishly stuck her tongue out at him. She picked up her ceramic plate, trying to figure out a way to conceal it before the men were to come to her cell.

But the plate fell out of her hands before she could. "Shit," she hissed. The sound of the plate breaking echoed throughout the prison, making the two pairs of feet quicken their step toward her. They were too far down though to catch her with the broken plate. Gwendolyn bent down, gathered all the broken pieces she had, and looked up at Francisco, who eyed the pieces in fear. She smirked.

"Oh, Francisco Fuentes, you'll regret the day you laughed at me," she said.

"You better-." She pushed all the broken pieces into his cell and scurried to the other side before he was able to finish his sentence. Gwendolyn tried to look nonchalant, even annoyed, sitting on top of the ledge that was to be her bed innocently with her tricorne pushed down just enough to cover her eyes. Gwendolyn even managed to put a piece of dirty hay in between her teeth and chewed on it.

The guards stopped at Francisco's cell while just one pair of boots walked over to hers. She didn't need to watch what was going to happen. She heard Francisco try to explain the broken plate with fear trembling in his voice because he knew what was going to happen as well. The guards yelled at him and swung open the door, slurring in their tongue, as one rushed in to pull him out. They probably didn't understand his intent with the plate; they probably thought that he meant it as an accident rather than a means of escaping.

But she did hear them drag him down the hall to his latest fate, which was either a cruel flogging or something other than death. She wasn't cruel. Just cruel enough to have that fate happen to somebody else. She was tempted to wave goodbye to him.

The pair of boots in front of her cell did not move. She felt eyes on her as the assumed man, with the deep, English... English... did she hear an English accent before? Her eyes lit up, her eyebrows perked. _She did._

Gwendolyn could have sworn she heard a smirk in the man's voice as he said, "Gwendolyn Sparrow, is it?" His accent was English. She was frozen for a moment, but then she slowly lifted up the brim of her hat, swallowing. She looked over to see, not a red coat, but a blue, English Navy coat. The man had a decorative uniform, the white powdered wig, and a smug grin on his face with twinkling blue eyes that looked as though they had found something valuable. He was tall as well. At least, six inches taller than her.

She tried not to look so anxious. "Depends," she mustered.

"Well, you fit the rumored description of her."

"There are rumors of me?" Gwendolyn questioned, standing up from her ledge. She wanted to hear them. Most talked of her brother, most talked of her father, hell, some even talked about Grandmama Sparrow. Never of her. She tucked her thumbs under the belt of her breeches before taking a few steps toward him. "I highly doubt that, mate."

The Navy Officer snickered. "The scar above your lip, brown, curly and matted hair-you have 5,000 pounds on your head. Your brother, 10,000."

Gwendolyn cringed, biting her lip. "Eh, doesn't ring a bell." She was surprised she even had that. Her name probably earned her a few pounds alone but she didn't nearly create as many rumors of her success as her brother did.

"You have numerous crimes against both the British and Spanish crown, ranging from kidnapping, pillaging, raiding, embezzling-."

"Sounds like you're trying to sing a song, mate."

"And you as well have the brand of a pirate above your left wrist from your encounter with the East India Trading Company." Her fake grin had fallen at that. The man gripped that wrist tightly; making her grimace as he pulled her sleeve up to reveal the risen up 'P' she had gotten a few years back. She twisted her wrist out of his grip, noticing that his smirk never wavered. His hands met behind his back as hers met in front of her. Though he didn't hold her wrist tightly, she nursed it anyway, rubbing it.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. Then opened it again, just to close it soon after. The man waited for a word to come out of her mouth, patiently. She separated her hands from one another to hold up a finger at him. He raised his brow as she attempted to make a noise that sounded like a word. But all she came up with was, "Gwen."

"Pardon?" He questioned, but he didn't look so confused. He looked as though he succeeded.

She took in a shaky breath, her hand falling down to her side. She took a few steps back in case this man was going to get an idea. "Gwen... I like to be called Gwen. Gwendolyn is just... too formal."

"Right, Miss Sparrow." That sounded even worse.

She shook her head before walking back to the ledge-bed, gritting her teeth. For whatever reason, the Spanish were keeping her alive. She knew the moment that she was handed over to the English; she would most likely be hanged. "I'm afraid, sir, that the Spanish beat you to capturing me. So sorry, it was a pleasant visit though. Have a good day and soak up the sun while you can," she said in an attempt to brush him away. She looked at the man's fair skin, noticing also how his eyes blinked a few times. He seemed a little peeved by her. She made her whole body shake as she sat down, crossing her legs like the lady that she surely wasn't. She added, "You kinda need it, mate."

The man's smirk fell. It seemed to harden into a stoic, serious expression that suddenly showed the manner of his business. "I'm afraid they are holding you upon my orders, Miss Sparrow."

"I'm...I'm..." she was flabbergasted. She didn't really know what to say to him, this was ridiculous. "You are giving the Spanish orders... to hold me captive?"

"That is what I said."

"Why?"

"It does not concern you, Miss Sparrow. But what does concern you is," he said as he moved aside, allowing two Spaniards to open the door, "that you are now held in my custody. As someone who has committed treason as a citizen under the British crown-."

"Actually, I was born under the Span-."

"You are to be punished under the British crown." The two guards moved swiftly in her cell, taking her by the arms and pulling her up on her feet. She tried to pull her arms out of their grasp, but failed. Damn it, she should have used the plate when she was supposed to use the plate. Her wrists were forced in front of her, and she cringed once she felt the iron around her wrists. She bit the inside of her mouth, glancing up at the man who stood there, smug yet again.

He was taking too much pleasure in this... did she happen to know him? What did she do to deserve this?

She was pushed towards him, her bare feet tripping over each other. As they twisted, she realized how torn and sore they actually were. Gwen wished they brought her boots when they took her away. She couldn't imagine how her feet looked; she hadn't really looked at them in the three weeks she was there. The man caught her by the arm, his grip on her wasn't as tight as theirs, but it was definitely firm.

"I cannot believe this," she muttered, letting herself be led by the man in blue.

He sniggered, "Believe it, Miss _Sparrow_ , this is the day you will always remember as the day you were caught by Commodore James Norrington."

Commodore James Norrington... the name was familiar. She could have sworn she heard it before. But there was no time to contemplate it; she was concentrating on not letting the man drag her feet on the floor. But... she definitely caught his tone, how it mocked her, how it emphasized _Sparrow_ of all things. It all soon clicked... this was because of one of her brother's messes, wasn't it?

With this revelation, she hissed through her teeth, following the Commodore's lead.


	2. Clipped Wings

_Clipped Wings_

She hardly was listening to them. Gwen stood in the back of the room, moving her dirty toes against the tiled floor. The voices in the room were blurring into one another, but all she could think about at that moment was how her effects still were in the dungeon, hanging before her cell. The Commodore took her tricorne hat away, so she couldn't imagine how stringy and matted her dark hair was.

She sighed, briefly looking up and turning her head to see the officer that had his head straight forward. Gwen puckered her lips before attempting to puff out her chest like he had his. She brought her chin up and raised both her eyebrows. "Miss."

The other one's voice made her head snap forward. "Sorry," she muttered.

The Commodore turned his head momentarily to see what she was doing. Gwen spotted the irritated crease in his brow before turning back to the Spanish Captain that had captured her in the first place.

The Captain's name, she learned, was Rodriguez. Now that she had a good look at him, while not being drunk also, she saw his large, curly black hair that puffed out to his shoulders and his mustache that curled up at its ends. His long nose and angular brown eyes complimented his face well, but his features still held an element of confidence that irritated Gwen.

"As you know," the Commodore started. Gwen noted that this man's posture, though perfect in standing up, wasn't so when sitting down. Commodore Norrington's shoulders were slightly hunched over as if he was carrying an invisible burden of duty on his back. He continued, "Miss Sparrow is a well-known criminal in the waters of the Caribbean. She not only committed crimes of piracy under our flag, but under yours as well—and she, along with anyone who bears the name Sparrow and who is associated with the name, will be punished."

Captain Rodriguez blinked a few times. Gwen briefly wondered if the man kept her blood on his boot. "It is strange," Rodriguez said, glancing over at Gwen and the two Navy officers. "When we received your message of her arrival, we did not know what to think. We thought it may be a… ¿cómo se dice un truco?"

The Commodore did not seem to know. He hesitated, but Gwen offered, "A trick?"

"Quiet," one of the naval officers pulled on her arm harshly. Gwen tried to stop her mouth from forming a scowl—that was the second time she was reprimanded by him.

Though he sounded annoyed, the Commodore said after her, "A trick, I believe you mean."

In smug, Gwen's eyebrows perked as the officer's shoulders rolled back. Rodriguez gestured toward him. "Sí, a trick. We did not know whether to believe your words. But once we have found it was her, I have to say, we were reluctant in giving her to your… your custody."

"Why so?"

"We are perfectly capable of giving her the… correct punishment for her crimes as you are. It could be considered an insult that you do not feel the same."

 _Shit_ , Gwen thought. Her head picked up, feeling as though this meeting was not going to go as planned. She heard some of the _punishments_ for piracy, and not all of them were to be hanged until dead. Her mouth twitched, reliving a story her brother had told her about this man who held a Spanish aristocrat's daughter hostage. His… fate was not very pleasant. She would much rather suffer the gallows, at least that was a death she prepared herself to have plenty of times; the nightmares of being hanged plagued her sleep for at least a year when she first started her career as a pirate.

The British could do other things, she knew that, but she most likely was going to be hanged above all else. She didn't think that she would get that with the Spanish; not only did she commit piracy, but she also took to spitting in Captain Rodriguez's face.

Norrington seemed like he prepared for the Spaniard to say something of the like. He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, and then said, "I understand. But… Miss Sparrow is a sensitive case. She is not the only one with the name, her name is connected to many citizens that have committed crimes in our waters. Her name will send a message to many pirates that invade both of our waters. This is not meant to be an insult by any means. It would benefit you more if we take her from here."

If she could scoff, she would. Did he really think any living pirate on the Spanish Main would care if she died? Three thirds of them hated her brother, and not many knew, or rather _cared_ , that they were related. Jack did not even care that they were related, so why would they?

But let them believe it, to hang in the gallows would be mercy compared to other things. Rodriguez leaned back in his chair, picking up a small quill in his hand. His eyes were drawn onto it as he twisted it around his fingers. Gwen waited for an answer, holding her breath. After a moment, he straightened his shoulders, his head moving slightly enough to cause his fluffy hair to move as well.

"I understand," Rodriguez finally said. A sigh of relief almost escaped Gwen's mouth. Though her life was traded, she was glad that something finally went her way. "If what you say is true, I am happy to have received your message. If it is not, consider this to be the last time we work with the British Royal Navy."

"I shall. You will not be disappointed," Norrington stated with a hint of a smile tracing his lips.

* * *

The first thing that happened while aboard the _Dauntless_ was that she received a nice pair of boots that were two sizes too big for her feet. Though odd, Gwen couldn't help but feel grateful. She sat down in the brig after receiving them, tying the laces tightly to be sure that they would not fall off.

The second thing that happened, and this was what bothered her, _really_ , was silence. She did not know what she liked more, constant noises that were small, but noises nevertheless… or constant silence. Either way, she could not think. Her mind was not able to focus on anything.

And thirdly, she was faced with one officer who actually was handsome, with a long, thin nose and tightly pursed, thin lips. Gwen wanted nothing more than to trace a finger on his high, protruding cheekbones. It wasn't a bad thing, really, she was happy that the Commodore chose him, of all of them, to watch over her. It provided her with some entertainment, something pleasurable for her eye. But… he was not her type anyway. He didn't talk. "You know… I'm not even English, technically," she started, finally speaking after an hour of the ship sailing toward wherever. South, she believed—though she didn't understand why.

The officer, Groves, she believed his name to be, did not respond to her. His back was all she could see at that moment, his brown eyes watching the stairs very carefully.

She sighed loudly, pressing her back against the wall and extending her leg fully out. "Most people believe me to be. I speak English so well, you know. But my mum raised me in Puerto Rico 'til I was five. She was a whore, she died from… something—my abuela told me she was very sick. My pa took me in after that. Changed me name, too."

"What was your name?" Groves asked curiously. Gwen raised her eyebrows in surprise, using her feet to move toward the bars to see him looking over his shoulder. Though he did not look directly at her, it was in her general direction.

She grinned. "Well, my name's been Gwendolyn since birth, mate. But he gave me the name Sparrow, like me brother and my grandmama. It used to be Avila, actually. My mum wanted me to have an English name for some reason, but I haven't met another with the same name as me yet. I think she might have made it up, and besides it sounds more French to me, or something else. Who knows. As I said, my mum was a whore. She wouldn't know any better, barely spoke a lick of English. Hell, she was lucky enough to know Spanish."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked her.

She chuckled and admitted, "Boredom."

"Well… it is inappropriate. I should not be talking to you." _He takes this job too seriously_ , she thought.

"Why?" Gwen questioned, criss-crossing her legs and using her hands to lean back. "I don't believe it to be."

"You are a prisoner—a pirate."

"So? I'm still a human, with a mouth and words coming out of it," Gwen said, smirking. Groves swallowed thickly, glancing up at the stairs before turning fully toward her. She shrugged her shoulders. "Why not come over here? You have nothing to worry about. I'm not planning on leaving and you can do just as good a job from the seat across from my cell. It might be better to have eyes on the front of me."

He looked as though he was about to. His face softened toward her as the hands behind him loosened. However, he shook his head, changing his mind. "No, no," he said. He turned back toward the stairs. His face this time looked more stern and focused. "Commodore Norrington told me to stay here and like this until I'm dismissed. That is what he said."

 _Oh Christ._ She did not know how she was going to survive this voyage.

"That could be hours from now, mate. Come on."

"It'll be sooner than you think, Sparrow," someone other than Groves said. Gwen's lips twitched as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Groves stepped to the side, turning to face the wall next to her cell. Lieutenant Gillette stepped forward, taking the keys out of his officer's hands with a smug smirk on his face. As he looked over Gwen's form, she forced herself to look away. "Commodore Norrington would like a word with you."

"Wonderful," she said with a heavy sigh. Slowly, Gwen stood up, putting her hands on her hips as Gillette approached her cell, unlocking it.

* * *

She looked around the cabin, not at all surprised to see how organized and extravagant the interior was. It matched the exterior of the ship almost perfectly. Although one thing she did notice was how unorganized the various maps were on top of the Commodore's desk.

"You will not need these," the Commodore stated from behind her, closing the door as he entered his cabin. Gwen looked over her shoulder to see him carrying a set of keys in his hand. Her brow furrowed confused. "Unless you are planning to jump ship anytime soon." He pulled her hands forward by the shackles' chain and unlocked them from her wrists. The weight of them disappeared.

She grabbed her left wrist in disbelief, her pinky briefly brushing over the raised skin of her brand. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Commodore Norrington dropped the irons on top of his desk before walking over to a small table with bottles of spirits on top. Her eyebrows perked at the sight of the alcohol, her mouth watering. "Sit down, Miss Sparrow. We have matters to discuss."

"M-matters?" Gwen questioned, but didn't hesitate in taking a seat in front of his desk. Her eyes watched him as he poured them both glasses of sherry. "Uh… what sort of matters, Commodore?"

All he did was smile—it wasn't necessarily one of happiness. The smile looked painful, tight. He took both glasses of sherry before sauntering over to his desk. Once he handed hers to her, Gwen took the glass, putting it aside as he sat down in front of her. He took a moment to organize his maps on top of his desk, before glancing up at her. Gwen had to narrow her eyes at him, noticing a brief change in color in his. Or… were they always hazel?

She could have sworn they were blue when she first looked at him. He answered her, eventually, "Your options."

"I have options?"

"Yes," he said, taking a sip of his sherry. That… that explained a lot. She took her glass of sherry in her hand, briefly bringing it to her nose. One sniff was enough for her to take a sip. It took every ounce of her will to not release a pleased sigh. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gwen felt the need to stop him.

She said, "My apologies if I sound… out of line, mate, but I feel like your intentions with me aren't very honorable, James."

He corrected, "Commodore Norrington."

"Whatever." She dismissed it with a wave of her glass before putting it down.

The smile on his face seemed to falter, just slightly. "How so, Miss Sparrow?"

"You've been following me," Gwen stated. Her brown eyes holding a bit of mirth. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs before hooking her thumbs beneath the belt of her breeches. "You were in pursuit of me and you even went as far as to write to the Spanish government to contain me until you have arrived to move me into your custody. I don't know about you, mate, but that is plenty odd. I don't really think I've even had a lad who has taken much interest in my pretty, little face."

Norrington's brows only perked at that, but he didn't cater to her last remark. "I've taken an interest in you because you are a criminal, Miss Sparrow."

"A criminal you are allowing in your cabin unshackled, and giving options to."

"You are not _just_ a criminal, I'm afraid."

"Then what am I?" she asked. Gwen took a deep breath, her eyes roaming on the Commodore's uniform. His name was familiar, why was his name _so_ familiar? They certainly hadn't met, she would think that she'd remember a face like his—those hazel eyes. She pressed, "Pray tell, I want to know."

Norrington's faux smile disappeared. "It depends on what you choose."

 _What I choose?_ He couldn't be serious. Gwen was taken back by his response; she didn't understand why he was being so cryptic—she would much rather him to just answer her _bloody questions_. Silence fell between them as the two gazed at each other—one gaze was serious and stern and the other was filled with confusion and wonder. She wanted to know where she had heard his name before, why she had heard it before. But then it occurred to her.

Her brother—Jack.

Instead of pursuing to learn those choices, she pushed her chair back, standing up. The movement nearly startled James enough for his hand to fall on top of the hilt of his sword. "Calm down, Commodore, I'm without my effects," she stated. She walked around his desk, eying the globe that was poised in the corner of his cabin. The Commodore's eyes followed her, catching her every move—even the stiff finger that she pressed against the cold metal. "Do you believe the world is flat or round, Norrington?"

"I beg pardon?"

" _Flat_ or _round_?" Her finger trailed down to where the Caribbean was. She allowed herself to smirk at where her old home used to be, right at its edge. She wanted a chance to go back there, but… she might not ever.

He sighed, annoyed. "Round, obviously—now, sit back—."

"I may sound ignorant, a daft pirate like the lot, but I'm going to say flat," she said. Her hand fell down at her side as she glanced up at the water that the _Dauntless_ was leaving behind. The boots that were two sizes too big squeaked along the wood floor as she moved to stand before the large window. The Commodore slowly moved his hand off the hilt of his sword before rising up. He made his way up to the window to join her with his glass of sherry in hand. "There are a few rumors about the world, some false, some true. Who knows, but apparently there's an end, somewhere at the bottom of the world where it's too cold to stand, too cold to even breathe. It's where the living die, and the dead live. But the dead… do not come back. We all have ends, end ends, and our days have ends, and stories have ends. Nothing is immortal or sacred, not even the gods that some worship."

Commodore Norrington shook his head. "You are spewing rubbish, Miss Sparrow," he commented. She glanced over at him, watching him sip at his sherry. The man seemed to enjoy the taste. "I do not see _your_ end with it. It almost sounds like a drunkard's rant."

"It is," she chuckled airily. "But you're listening to it, mate."

"Are you wasting my time or is there a meaning behind it?"

"Even the most honorable have an end in mind," Gwen stated to him with a small smile of her own. "And sometimes, with less than honorable means."

"I do not know what you mean."

"You have a personal vendetta against my brother. I mean, I believe you do," Gwen said confidently. She finally faced him, turning her head away from the calm and serene water. James did not seem phased by this at all. "I've not heard a word from my brother for a very long time, but I catch wind _of_ him. I know exactly who you are."

"Do you really?"

She believed she did. In Tortuga, word of mouth always managed to come to her, especially in her days working with the _Faithful Bride_ for a month or two—an extremely brief period. Her brother's escape from Port Royal was only just one of the stories she heard in there, his escape from him. She shook her head. "You make it obvious. I mean, plenty do, so it's not really a stretch. But… I just don't know what that has to do with me. It seems to be business between you and him—not me, you, and him. I haven't done anything."

"You have committed many crimes, just as your brother has."

"Eh." She shrugged her shoulders, looking up at him. He was much taller than she was. Even with her shoulders squared and her back straightened, he managed to tower over her. "Some would disagree."

"I surely do not."

"And that is why you are giving me options, Commodore, which I frankly don't understand," Gwen said, walking back to the desk. She sat back where she was before as James stood by the window, his body slowly turning in her direction. "You are also heading South. I believe London is North of Spain. But… I'm not one for directions."

James's eyes glanced down, a small smirk flashing onto his face. He scoffed, before looking back at her. "I can hand you over to the British Government, if you would like. You could stand trial there, a fair one, but it would be likely that you would hang for all to see," he told her. He stood where he was as she took her glass back in her hands, she tried to act like that didn't bother her. It was what she expected, but the fact that he was already having the ship sailing _away_ from England, from Europe in general, meant something different. She only guessed that he was South-bound, but he didn't deny it. Her luck might finally make an appearance, really, this time. There was a glimpse of it during their negotiations with Captain Rodriguez, but now… oh dear, did she see it.

Her wings could be unclipped depending on what he had to say. But she couldn't allow herself to get excited. Though it seemed to be clear that, hey, she might live a little longer than she originally thought, it wasn't. She pointed her finger at him. "Alas, you _are_ the British Government."

"I'm a mere servant."

"How unfortunate."

He ignored her before continuing, "But… I do not have to do that."

"I'm sorry?" Gwen's face pulled together confused. The glass in her hand almost fell out of her hand. Christ, she did not think she was right.

"Not yet, no."

"Yet… key word," Gwen noted, pulling herself out of her surprise. "That means you're planning on it, mate."

"That is more dependent on you, Miss Sparrow." Commodore Norrington made his way from the window to sit in front of her. Gwen's face softened as she glanced at the now organized maps. She gulped nervously. Somehow she knew where this was going. She felt a pit form in her stomach. "Depending on your efforts and your willingness to help us, we can grant you clemency."

She froze. "Clemency?" Her eyes glanced down at her brand on her left wrist, barely being covered by her dirty white sleeve. She… she could get out. She had a chance. However, she shook her head. "That…" she bit her bottom lip, putting her glass aside as she pulled down on her sleeve to cover it. "What's the catch?"

He said it plainly, "Your brother."

"My… my brother?" Her mouth had fallen open in shock. She immediately stood up, looking down at him with her eyes wide. Was he… was he serious? He could not be serious. No, not at all. That was her… no, no, no. Her eyes looked him up and down in disbelief. He only just stared up at her with his hands nonchalantly folded on top of his desk. It was almost as if he asked her the easiest thing in the world. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

"You will give me your brother," he said, speaking slowly in order for her to understand, "and I will give you your freedom."

She _did_ hear him correctly. It only just made her answer immediate. "No."

"What?" the Commodore questioned.

"Shackle me up in irons, throw me in your brig and ship me off to the gallows in London, the Caribbean, anywhere in the world, if you'd like," Gwen started, her face turning in disgust. She already had her hands together for the irons. She would be more than happy to leave his cabin right at that moment if it was up to her. Even though she knew where this was headed, for some reason, she did not want it to be true. Too bad it was. "It takes a low person to demand what you demand of me. I will not, I would _never_ , give up a person of my family so I could roam the seas scot free."

"You…" the Commodore started, but his voice shook, being too flabbergasted by her response to even muster one himself. He shook himself out of his stupor after a moment of thought. "I do not think you understand what I am trying—."

"I understand fine," Gwen shot back at him. "I understand that you are a desperate fool who is pathetic enough—."

"You are stepping over boundaries, Miss Sparrow!" Commodore Norrington snapped, standing up now with both of his hands flat on his desk.

Gwen, however, did not flinch. "And you aren't?"

"Do not forget your place," Norrington warned, walking around his desk. Gwen turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. His eyes narrowed down at her, and though Gwen could feel their anger, and even hatred for her _kind_ and her name, she tried to stand her ground in front of him—tried not to let him see that she felt the least bit inferior. "I am offering you a chance," he started, his voice softer. Gwen cast her eyes downward at that, knowing full well the chance he was offering. And the fact that his voice took on a different tone, a gentler one, she—no, she couldn't.

Almost as if he saw the tension in her face, the argument taking place in her head, he added, "You might not be able to see it now, but you will."

Slowly, her eyes moved back up at him. Her changing mind suddenly halted, allowing her to remember what exactly the Commodore asked moments ago. Gwen's mouth parted, not hiding that she was offended. She said, "We are through here." She took a step back, holding up both of her wrists for him to cast irons upon. She wanted nothing more than to get out of there, away from _him_.

He puffed out his chest, holding his hands behind his back now. His chin was not raised high enough for the tip of his nose to be pointed up and away from her. The two of them locked eyes, feeling the same thing toward one another—disgust. Then not a moment too soon, he took the iron shackles from his desk before locking them over her wrists. Gwen tried not to seem bothered by their familiar weight. She was just going to have to get used to them. He kept his face stoic, and in a stern tone he said, "Very well."

With that, he called Gillette to take her back to her cell. Once Gwen was turned away from Norrington, she allowed her face to fall. As Gillette led her away, his hold on her tighter than ever before, all she could think about was that… for a brief moment, she wanted to accept it.

She wanted a chance to be free.

* * *

 _Wow, I did not expect the response I had gotten from the first chapter! Thank you all for the reviews, the alerts, and the favorites! Seriously, I did not expect it. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and sorry that it took so long. As I have mentioned before, I posted this story at a bad time so updates were most likely going to take a while, but thank you for being patient! Unfortunately I'm still busy, but I'm writing more than before, and the next chapter is already planned out—so the update should be up a lot sooner than this one._

 _Yeah, so once again, thank you! And see you soon!_

 _Review Replies (a lot of you were guests and left it as 'Guest' haha, so I'm just going to put numbers next to them so it's not confusing, and it's going to go in the order of who posted what)_

 _Guest 1: Wow, what a nice review! Thank you so much (and don't worry about your English, you speak it well)! I'm really glad you liked the first chapter. After you mentioned about the name, I did some research myself. I honestly couldn't find it either in that time period (you're definitely right about Gwen being used before the nineteenth century, since it stemmed from Guinevere in the King Arthur legends). And honestly, if you want to write a PoTC fanfic, I encourage you to do so! Especially because of your interest in the period. I feel like you would have a lot of fun. But I'm happy that you see her differently than you do Jack because they are definitely different in more ways than one, and that would be more clear in the later chapters, but they are also similar, too. It's also great that you see her potential and unique, hopefully you still see her that way haha._

 _As for the point of view in the story, I kinda am, kinda not. My narrator is more the all-knowing narrator, I'm forgetting the name of what kind of narrator that is, but I will head-jump here and there, mainly between James & Gwen, but it would only be if that certain scene centers around them. But I definitely saw what you mean and took that suggestion when writing this chapter._

 _Oh he's one of mine too, so I hope I really do him justice since this is my first romance fic with him. But I do agree with you, I'm a fan of slow romances and writing them. So, that is pretty much my plan with this particular fic, especially since the both of them are from two different sides, though they are working together. To answer your question (one you will soon find out in the coming chapters, however), no, that wasn't the Black Pearl she saw in the beginning. She was imagining it—it's actually an image that will come up again soon, but I'm not revealing why. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, and thank you for your review!_

 _Guest 2: Thank you! Oh yeah, I found out that he didn't have blue eyes. I tried to resolve that in this chapter after I really looked into it (I stared at a picture of Jack Davenport for nearly ten minutes to figure it out). But I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! Thank you for your review!_

 _Hilary101: Oh, wow, thank you! I'm happy to hear you are a fan already! I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much. Thank you for your review!_

 _Guest #3: Thank you! And it is here now, sorry that I took so long. Like I said in my note, I was swamped with school work and finals. Hopefully now that I'm on summer break I'll update more! Hope you enjoy the new chapter! Thank you for your review!_

 _Guest #4: I just did lol! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thank you for your review!_

 _Once again, thank you everyone for the fiftieth time. I know I'm annoyingly grateful. See you for the next update!_


	3. P for Pirate

_'P' for Pirate_

 _The stench of burning corpses and wood surrounded Gwen. Her eyes were narrowed at where her ship used to be, her home, for the past few months. Her body was trembling as an EITC agent held both of her hands in one with a blade pressed against her neck._

 _A man with a bicorne hat stood in front of the six pirates that survived their own raid. His icy blue eyes held a smug look as they landed on each and every one of them. Gwen tried to not pay attention to him. All she could think about was how she watched her Captain fall on top of the deck with a cutlass sticking out of his back. He was ran through easily, with little fight, almost like his goal that day was to die._

 _She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach as they sailed toward the ship. All of them were desperate for new swag, but she knew it boded ill._

 _She remembered what her father had said about desperate people, pirates and sailors especially, out on sea. Once a pirate would become desperate, they would do something stupid._

 _Teague was right, as usual. They were all stupid; the moment they sailed out of the Caribbean, they became stupid._

 _The breeze around the ship brushed the white tail attached to the man's wig. Everyone was silent, waiting for him to speak. It was funny though, by the size of him, Gwen wouldn't think that he would be the leader of this ship. He was around her height._

 _The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Your Captain is dead," he announced. She cast her eyes downward, not daring to look up at the small man in the bicorne. "I am Director Cutler Beckett, and you," he paused, beginning to walk down the line, his heels clicking against the wood. He continued, "are pirates who have chosen the wrong ship, it seems."_

 _It was disturbing how calm his tone was. His heels stopped moving, causing Gwen to look up briefly. She could not see who he was standing in front of; not but a glimpse of a large man who was hunched over. She was surprised that no one was holding him back. But she glanced down to see a pool of blood forming underneath him. Her face contorted, disgusted. "I have word that you are second-in-command?" Beckett asked the man._

 _Gwen tried not to widen her eyes. She watched as Beckett looked down at her quartermaster, a small smile making an appearance on his face. He was called Hobbs. He was a large man that Captain Reynolds picked up in Haiti. The man was tough as nails, they said—but she_ knew. _Whenever they raided a different ship, the ferociousness showed as his mouth snarled back to reveal his pointed teeth, some with gold caps, others with silver. Although, scary as he was to be around, he had the respect of everyone on the ship and played the fiddle badly on their drunken nights._

 _She didn't think he survived this either. She saw a bullet head his way, a stray one. She saw him go down, but she didn't see where it hit._

 _Hobbs didn't answer him. Gwen could hear his moans of pain though. "Nothing to say, pirate?"_

 _She swallowed, waiting to hear something along with everyone else. But... all that came out of Hobbs was shaky breath. Gwen decided to look away from the sight, uncertain of what was going to happen. She made her back rigid, held her chin up high, and ignored Beckett's curt order to get rid of their quartermaster._

 _The tears at the corner of her eyes stung as she heard Hobbs curse. But the curse soon turned into a gargle as a blade sliced open his throat. She tried to not grimace as she heard a heavy thud hit the wood._

" _Now," Beckett started, stepping over the body without taking a look down at it. Gwen closed her eyes tightly, swallowing and sucking at her lips. "Take that as an example of what happens when you do not_ comply _."_

" _We don' havta listen to ya!" Someone shouted from the line, next to Gwen. She breathed in sharply, cursing, knowing full-well who that voice belonged to. It was someone new who had too much pride in his bones the moment they picked him up. Baker. His cracked lips always spoke too much, and his mouth was always used more than his scrawny legs. Beckett's head cocked to the side, in a curious, yet disgruntled way._

 _The man holding Baker pulled his arms back even further as Beckett stepped in front of him. "Is that so?" he asked. Gwen could have sworn that Beckett was like a predator, his hot breath inching closer to her, step by step. She didn't even know him, but she could tell that the man was slimier than any that she would come across. "Pray tell, who do you have that you do listen to?"_

" _Whoeva my Cap'n may be."_

 _If Gwen could roll her eyes, she could._

 _Beckett was motionless. "Well, your Captain is dead, the man I believed to be second command is dead. So, as far as I know, there is no one else. There is only five of you savages against more than twenty honorable men who have an honest living. You are outnumbered, and therefore useless."_

" _You call us the savages?" Gwen spoke out, gritting her teeth. She swallowed as Beckett suddenly looked at her, immediately regretting opening her mouth. Before she spoke out, the man's hold on the knife loosened, once he felt that she wasn't a threat toward his leader._

 _But as the words left her mouth, he still didn't make a move to restrain her as before. She wasn't struggling though._

 _Gwen acted as though she accepted her fate—and she had. She imagined her death happen in so many different times, it started to feel like a memory._

 _She continued, trying not to stammer, "You were just lettin' a man bleed out from a bullet, right on your deck. You didn't give him a chance to speak before you had one of your men murder him in cold blood, mate."_

" _Murder in cold blood?" Beckett questioned. "And you haven't done the same... miss?" He sounded surprised when he looked at her more closely. Gwen attempted to not pay mind to him as he examined her._

 _She didn't answer him, instead she kept her breath even._

 _Beckett had a smug expression on his face. "Oh no, it seems like you have a lot to say. Don't be shy now."_

" _We kill to survive...mate," she said, looking away from him. Beckett only hummed at what she said, which she knew wasn't very good._

 _Then Beckett chuckled. "And so do we," he added. "I believe your point is mute, miss—."_

" _Gwen."_

" _I do not believe I asked your name."_

 _Beckett took another step toward her. His face still smug as their eyes matched level. It was so close, close enough for her to spit at him and make a mark if she wanted to. But as he made the distance between them small, she was pulled back by the man behind her and the knife was pressed against her throat. She couldn't help the squeal of surprise to escape. Her body resumed trembling, her bottom lip moving on its own. Beckett's smirk turned into a grin._

 _For a brief moment Gwen thought it was her turn to die, but the director surprised her._

" _Now, what is that name again?"_

 _She stuttered, "G-Gwen."_

" _G-G," Beckett mocked, chuckling. "Come on now, woman. Speak."_

'Woman,' _she repeated in her head. Her teeth gritted as she narrowed her eyes at the small man, enjoying himself way too much as he laughed with most of his men on the ship. Gwen was bothered by it, their laughter ringing across the bodies they killed—her friends—and the blood that belonged to them._

" _Gwendolyn Sparrow," she hissed at him. But once her name left her lips, she saw the smug on Beckett's face fade. His eyes widening only just a bit as he looked at her from head to toe. She felt her face contort as she watched him step away from her, his hot and smelly breath leaving her face. She didn't know what that look meant; she didn't want to know._

 _But before her mind could go into a thousand different reasons as to why Beckett's face drained, he composed himself. A man dressed completely in black step toward him with his eyes on Gwen. He used a hand to cover his mouth as he whispered in his ear. The man's face was weathered and severe as the wrinkles on it drooped. His dark eyes watched Gwen as if he was waiting for her to pull herself out of the agent's hold._

 _He did not tear them away from her as he took a step away from Beckett._

 _That bad feeling made another appearance. How Beckett looked at her, how the man in black looked at her, she knew that whatever would happen next would bring her the worse kind of luck. Although, she didn't know why. All she had done was say her name._

* * *

Her eyes widened as she woke up. The sweat on her back made her light shirt stick to her flesh as she breathed heavily, one of her hands falling on top of chest. She looked up at the only window in her cell, the porthole, to see what was the time of day. It was still dark.

She had been on _The Dauntless_ for a full day. Her time on the ship did not really do much. All she really did was think and think. Her thoughts ranged from plans to escape, to her brother, and then to the Commodore and his request.

She bit her bottom lip, wrapping her arms around her legs in order to bring them closer. Her thumb was under her left sleeve, caressing her brand in memory. Director Cutler Beckett's icy blue eyes made an appearance far too often; his eyes were burned into her head, haunting her.

It was the very first time her brother's name had gotten her into trouble. Sparrow was just a name before then, a name her Grandmama used, her brother used, and one of her uncles. Her father did not use the name to separate himself from his mother, and she wanted to do the same. But, he never allowed that.

"Are you alright?" someone asked. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, her stomach grumbling from the lack of food. "You... you look spooked, Miss Sparrow."

She turned her head slowly, glancing at Groves who was now standing up in front of the bars. He was not at attention, but one foot was forward as if he was reluctant to speak to her. She gave him a fake smile to acknowledge what seemed to be fake concern. "I'm peachy, officer."

"You do not seem like you are."

"And why would you care?" she asked annoyed. "Yesterday I was just a prisoner."

"You're still human," Groves said. Gwen frowned, looking away as her brow furrowed. "I-I don't know," he went on, shaking his head. Abruptly, Gwen picked hers up confused, seeing Groves backing away from her cell and toward his seat once more. "This may be out of place. I shouldn't have ask—."

Gwen interrupted him with a small smile, "It was just a bad dream, mate. But don't fret, I've grown used to them."

He gave a curt nod before taking his seat once more. He closed his mouth and looked away, as if he did not want to say anything to her then. Gwen took a deep breath before shifting herself to face him. "Y'know, officer, I'd love to make a request."

He reluctantly turned to face her, unsure if he wanted to even hear what it was. Her eyebrows perked though once they locked eyes. He remained silent though. She smirked. "Come on now. You were ready to talk to me before. Don't be shy, all you have to do is say yay or nay."

"I'm afraid I can't take requests from prisoners."

"But I'm not just a prisoner, Officer Groves," Gwen started, wrapping her hands around the bars before putting her face in between them. "I'm also human, and besides you didn't even hear it yet."

Groves closed his eyes tightly. "What is your request?"

"I just want my hat back." Gwen quickly said, moving her face away from the bars. He asked the question as if it was painful to ask it. She didn't understand why. He opened his eyes and raised a brow at her. She shrugged her shoulders. "It'll help me...it blocked out a few things in me life. I just need help to sleep, and this morning, the sun was botherin' me 'nough to wake me so—."

"I will see what I can do, Miss Sparrow," Groves said, cutting her off. She didn't hide the surprise on her face as he stood up. But soon her smirk turned back into a smile. Gwen had a good feeling her and Officer Groves would be good friends by the time they made it to the Caribbean.

* * *

" _Would you care for a cup of tea, Miss Sparrow?" The sound of his voice made Gwen pick up her head as her body shook. Though her wrists were chained, she attempted to grip both of her arms across her chest. The light from the sun was shining through the window behind Beckett, making her squint her eyes. Her hair was matted together with more than just knots, and her skin shined with dirt. Her clothes were practically rags and stained with blood. She could barely look at the director in the eye as he sipped his tea. "It might make you feel better." There was a ghastly smile on his face._

 _She didn't answer him. Instead a shiver ran through her body, but she did not dare look up at him or turn her face away._

 _It made him chuckle. "Oh, come now, Miss Sparrow. You do not have to be silent with me any longer. We're friends."_

 _She scoffed, not saying a word. He was a friend who killed other friends, it seemed. For three months Gwen stayed in that god-awful cell, not finding a way to escape, not looking for a way out. One by one the other four members of_ The Scornful Maiden _were carried out of their cell while she was placed in her own. She wasn't sure what they had planned for her, what they wanted to do to her. But one thing she knew, she knew whatever to come was not good._

 _The way Beckett had looked at her before she was taken below was ingrained in her mind. The man in black fiddling with the knife at his side whenever he came down to check on her made her feel strained. He never once used it against her, but by the look in his eyes she could tell that he wanted to use it._

 _By the time he came for her, she was at the point of wanting to die. The next time she wanted to see the sunlight, she wanted to be taken away to be hanged. She wanted it all to be done and over with._

 _But that was not what they intended for her, apparently. Instead, she was brought to his personal office and was now being called 'friend'._

 _He took another sip of his tea. "You have nothing to fear. You can speak freely."_

" _Aye?" Gwen asked, her voice hoarse. Her throat was strained from not being in use and the lack of water. She gritted her teeth as she rolled her shoulder back, cringing as it cracked. "Why am I here, Director Beckett? For...forgive me, I'm not accustomed to this sort of special treatment. Savvy?" She could have sworn she saw his whole body shiver. At first, he didn't answer. He brought his cup of tea down on his desk and opened up a small book. "It's not very fair to keep your friends in the dark... my good chap."_

" _Hmm." Beckett glanced down at his book again, before shutting it. "Well, Miss Sparrow... the only reason why we happen to be friends is because we have friend in common." Gwen's face fell immediately. Her upper lip curled up as her brows knitted together confused. A friend in common? Why... Before she could ask, he went on, "Have you ever come across a Jack Sparrow in your travels?"_

" _J-Jack Sparrow?" Gwen questioned. That was her brother... why would her brother be involved with Beckett? Jack disappeared from Shipwreck Cove years ago. Gwen, or really anyone, had no clue of where he actually went—he could be dead for all she knew. She was hoping she would come across him in Tortuga at least, perhaps, but she didn't._

 _Beckett seemed to be eager to hear more about her relation with Jack, but she thought it best to not let him know. She shrugged her shoulders. "Beg pardon, mate. I'm 'fraid I never heard of the bloke. All that we have in common, as it seems, is our name."_

" _Is that so?"_

" _Aye, it is."_

 _Beckett shook his head in disbelief, but didn't attempt to make a remark against her. "What a strange coincidence then. Here I thought you to be a relative, or even a wife, of one of my Captains."_ Captain? _She thought. Her face slowly turned away from him now, her frown deepening. Her mouth parted as she stared at a random spot at the doors in front of her. He would never work for the East India Trading Company... she knew her brother. "Oh well, sadly I was mistaken. Merc—."_

" _Wait," Gwen said, abruptly turning her head. She felt her neck go stiff, but she decided to ignore the pain. "He's my brother... Jack is my brother."_

 _At the sound of that, Beckett seemed like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. His eyes never left Gwen as he ordered, "Mercer, please bring Sparrow. It seems it's time for a family reunion." The man in black moved from the corner with his face stoic. Gwen tried not to widen her eyes, but failed. Her brother was there? When Mercer left the room, Beckett shook his head. "Captain Jack Sparrow... one of my best."_

 _Gwen did not respond to him. She didn't think her brother was dead, just off elsewhere. But she did not think she would find him working with... them._

 _Beckett had gotten up from his desk before walking over to the fire burning on the other side. The weather around them was hot and dry enough. Gwen did not understand why the director even thought about putting a fire on until the man touched the handle of a long piece of iron. She bit down hard on her lip and tore her eyes away from him immediately. "Shame, he has made me angry as of late. Your brother has an unfortunate streak of being independent. He seemed to have forgotten that he has an employer."_

 _Swallowing, she said, "And you're not a good man to anger."_

" _You are right. I'm not."_

" _But... I don't understand still why you kept me here," Gwen admitted. Though she did not want to look at him, she still wanted a glimpse of his eyes as he would answer her. Yes, her brother was an employee of his company. Yes, her good brother seemed to have been, indeed, a bother for the director. But what did that have to do with her?_

" _I've not a word with my brother for five years, maybe more, maybe less. He isn't a pirate, never has been, never will be one. Jack is honorable, too honorable for this life and his own good. I'm sure he has spoken to you 'bout it." She didn't know what this man had planned, but she couldn't admit her brother was a pirate, not ever. She could tell how he was when he captured her, her crew. He had an usual hatred of them. Normally everybody who was honorable would, but there was something more heartless—cold—about his._

 _She was haunted by the loud thud of Hobbs' body still._

" _Sparrow and I had a deal. That is all you need to know, Miss Sparrow."_

 _She looked over at him, seeing him pick up the long piece of iron from the fire. His eyes glazed over the shape at the end of it, and Gwen felt her throat constrict as her eyes glanced at it as well. She blinked a few times, her wrist aching at the very thought, before turning away again. "And... and what're you planning on doing with that?"_

 _Beckett chuckled softly, putting the piece of iron back in the fire. "Nothing, if your brother complies."_

 _Her heart dropped at the same time she heard the door click open._

* * *

Gwen's head picked up once she heard boots coming down the stairs. She got up, walking over to the bars, expecting to see Groves coming down with her tricorne hat in hand. However, it was the Commodore, holding her hat in front of him with an annoyed glare thrown her way. Another pair of boots was behind him, and unfortunately they did not involve her friend, Groves. She narrowed her eyes at Norrington confused as the pudgy Navy Officer took Groves's previous chair.

"Oi, where's my friend?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Norrington did not answer her right away. Instead, he turned the hat vertically to fit it in between the bars. Gwen glanced down at it before taking it out of his hands reluctantly. He pursed his lips as she examined her hat, eyeing the small pocket she had sewn in a while back. "Your _friend_ is no longer going to be in charge of you. So sorry."

She swallowed before putting her hat on, pushing the brim down to be sure it was on securely. She gave him a fake smile before nodding her head. "Thanks."

Norrington's eyebrows only perked up as her smile fell. She turned away from the Commodore to take her place underneath the small window in her cell. James was about to leave the girl and his officer, but his eyes soon fell on the plate of food sitting on the ground, growing stale. He frowned. "Are you choosing not to eat, Miss Sparrow?"

"I ain't hungry, Commodore," she said, only regarding him with a raised brow. She crossed her arms over her chest as her stomach tried to protest.

James blinked a few times at her. "You must be. You should eat."

"As handsome as you are, my Commodore," Gwen started, turning to face him with a small smirk on her face. James glanced away from her, his body going stiff as she looked him over from head to toe. She went on with an airy chuckle, "I don't really wanna, and you can't really make me either."

Before he could even respond to her, Gwen faced forward, pushing the brim of her hat further down to cover her eyes. He sighed heavily before turning to face his officer, who barely seemed to be alert. He rolled his eyes. "Do not move from your place, Officer Murtogg."

"Right, sir." James tried to ignore the anxious tone in his voice. However, Gwen smirked at hearing it.

"Goodnight." He said, turning on his heel to leave.

As he went up the stairs, Gwen waved. "Fare thee well, my Commodore!" She closed her eyes to the sound of James pausing halfway up the stairs, to either roll his eyes annoyed or to sigh annoyed, before resuming.

She bit her bottom lip, feeling her head loll forward as if she was already asleep. However, she wasn't. She could not get out of her head; her thoughts would not stop. She wanted them to stop but she was afraid that the moment she would allow herself to sleep, she would be brought back into Beckett's office and see red flood her vision. She would smell the familiar scent of burning flesh once more, along with the scent of burning wood.

She didn't want to relive it. She relived it a thousand times, and she didn't want to again. She didn't need to.

Gwen pretended to fall asleep, leaning her head against the wood of the _Dauntless_ as it rocked back and forth. But once she heard the snores come from the officer's mouth not too long after, her eyes opened. Her head lifted up as she slowly took off her hat, soundlessly opening the pocket she had within it. She glanced over at him, as she took out a small chain.

She shook her head at him. "Replaced a guard too careful with a buffoon. Thought you to be smarter, Commodore," she said to herself. Gwen placed her hat delicately on top of her lap before looking at the pendent that hung at the bottom of the chain. This was from her abuela. She gave it to Gwen right before she allowed her to leave with her father.

She still remembered her words of warning before she left. She was five at the time, and there was no way for her to know what her abuela actually meant by it until she was older.

La sangre no significa que sean su familia.

And it didn't. She learned that the hard way years ago. After Jack laid eyes on her in Beckett's office, he didn't even remark that they were brother and sister until Beckett had brought it up. He stood there and denied it, even after his face had fallen, even after their similar brown eyes locked together... he denied _her._

 _His title and his bloody ship mattered to him more._

She remembered how she felt. She remembered how she felt when he said he never had seen her before in her life. It was different when she denied knowing him—she didn't know why Beckett was bringing him in the first place.

Unlike him. He saw her in shackles. He saw her filthy. He saw _her_ and allowed Beckett to mock her and him for a while before he admitted to it.

 _That's not family_.

He also allowed her to think he was dead for years. That was also something that someone who would call themselves family wouldn't do.

She gritted her teeth, remembering his gleeful grin, a whore on his lap and a tankard of rum in his hand. Years after they both got caught up with the EITC, years after she thought him to be dead, she found him in Tortuga.

He didn't even check up on her. He didn't even make sure that she was alive.

Her chest began to ache as tears welled up at the corner of her eyes. She placed the hat on top of her head roughly, dropping the necklace onto her lap as her hands rushed to wipe away the tears that fell from her eyes and caressed her cheeks.

Ever since she was a child, she did everything she could to prove herself as a Sparrow. She always had felt the need to do so, and as a lass she marked it as her duty.

Gwen couldn't recall a time where she told her brother no after requesting her for something. Even after they both received their brands from Jack trying to be _honorable_ , she never said no to _anything_.

And what did she get in return?

 _What exactly did she get in return?_

Nothing.

Not even a thank you.

Gwen bit down her lip to stop herself from releasing a quiet sob. She didn't realize how much this affected her. Yes, her brother had hurt her—several times and more times over—but she figured that was what family did once in a while. No one ever paid mind to Little Gwen. Her father was barely there, and Jack's mother, who was supposed to raise her, often placed her in the corner of their house. If Gwen had any guidance at all, it was from Grandmama Sparrow, who had given her more attention than she would have given Jack.

When she was older, Teague was more in her life. He was slowing down his life of piracy enough to spend time with both her and Jack. But, it wasn't enough. It was never enough. No matter how much she appreciated her father, Jack was there—even though Jack was a son of a bitch even then.

Jack was always there.

She moved her neck up, putting her chain around it before holding the pendent tightly in her hand. Gwen's eyes went to the front of her cell, looking at the bars up and down and shifting herself to stand up. She wiped the remaining tears from her eyes, her footsteps slow as she made her way to them. Her hands curled around the iron as her eyes focused on the wall the guard's head was leaning against.

Gulping, she whispered to herself, "I change my mind." Her hands fell from the bars as she straightened her shoulders, picking up her chin. She glanced up at the stairwell, faintly noticing the flame at the top of it with a shadow looming over. She questioned, "How long have you been standing there?"

Along with the jingling of keys, Gwen heard soft footsteps come down the steps—the light along with them. Her lips pursed as Norrington revealed himself at the bottom. "You did not really think I would leave you here with a sleeping guard, did you?" He smirked at her before hooking the lantern against the wall. Gwen closed her eyes as he turned around, not wanting to see the triumphant look on his face. "Long enough, it seems."

"I change my mind," she said quickly as he took the keys from his belt in his hands.

He tucked the key inside of the lock and held his hands behind his back. His eyebrows raised toward her curiously, as he leaned back on heels. "I beg your pardon, Miss Sparrow?"

She scoffed at her name. "I'd like to go back... to our deal."

If it was possible, his smirk could have grown at that. He pressed, "Which was?"

Her face contorted annoyed. "You know exactly what it was. I don't need ta repeat it, mate." He didn't respond to her though. He kept the same smug look on his face as if he had earned his greatest achievement. When, in reality, it was just Gwen realizing where her allegiances lied. And they did not belong with her brother, if she could even call him that.

As his silence continued, Gwen released a loud sigh. She said through her teeth,"I will give you Jack Sparrow, if you can rid me of what he gave me." Harshly, she took her left arm and pulled down her sleeve as rough as she can, bringing her wrist forward and toward his face. She bit her bottom lip, watching his eyes narrow at the brand. She glanced at her wrist before rocking on her heels anxiously.

She watched his Adam's apple bob before he looked back at her, their eyes locking. They were both silent as they gazed at one another, Gwen almost forgetting to breathe as she waited to see what her fate had in store for her.

"So," James started, licking his bottom lip as he slowly moved his hand forward. Gwen's hand from her sleeve, along with her wrist, fell. "Do we have an accord, Miss Sparrow? Your brother, Jack Sparrow, for your clemency?"

Her eyes fell onto his hand. She knew what she had to do. She knew what she _wanted_ to do. She had two choices now: to live or to die.

Staring at his hand, reluctant but sure, she confirmed to herself, _I was never meant to be a Sparrow._

Her hand then met his as she said, "He's no brother of mine."

After their hands dropped with a firm shake, Norrington took a step back as Gwen's hand reached around the bars to grab the handle of the key. Turning it to the left, her cell clicked open.

* * *

 _Hello all! Let me start with how sorry I am for the late update. I've had a lot of personal issues going on over the past few weeks, on top of work and my laptop breaking on me (and using a temporary one until that one gets fixed), which kind of made me put writing on the back-burner. Writing is not my top priority in life right now, it's something that I do for fun and it's also something I hope to make a career out of. And since I have a lot of reviewers in this fic in particular asking me about updates, I just ask to be patient. I love you all, your support means the world to me, and seeing new faces and old reading my fics is amazing. I promise I'm not holding back updates in my attic, it just sometimes my life gets in the way, and I also want to give you guys the best possible chapter in the best quality. Usually, when something is going on that is preventing me from updating, I'll post it on my Facebook page that you can like—I'd much rather post on there rather than posting a note in here, mostly because it's just easier. And you can always message me there too, I reply pretty quickly._

 _So with that, thank you all for sticking with me. I'm doing the best I can! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter as much as I did writing it! I did slip in an Easter Egg from Hamilton: A Revolution if anyone noticed it (I recently got obsessed). Thank you for reading and for the massive amounts of support!_

 _Review replies (as I did last time with the guest reviewers, I'll number the Guest in order from older to newer):_

 _Guest 1: Yes, and you're exactly right, too. Norrington just gave her time to think on it ;). And thank you! I kind of like their friendship that's developing too. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for your review_

 _AnnaB: Awe thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! Sorry for the wait, I'm trying the best I can with these updates. Thank you for your review!_

 _Guest 2: It's here! Hope you enjoyed!_

 _Kelly-Anne: Ah thank you! See, I didn't get into Norrington until the second movie, and even then I was always a Jack-girl ;), but I'm happy that I switched gears and started this fic with him. And you never know... ;) And I pretty much try to update whenever I can, which is a really bad answer. Right now, I have a few things going on and my laptop crapping out on made me off of my game. But usually if something goes on or if an update is coming up, I'll post a status on my Facebook page to update you all, and I also post the link to the update directly on it when I do. But thank you for your review, hope you enjoyed!_

 _Gwynn: Hey! I love her name, too! Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed the new update!_

 _(These were posted under Chapter One after I posted Chapter Two. But I remembered you guys, no worries!)_

 _Guest 3: Yes, I did update! But no, thank you for your review. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 _Guest 4: Ah that's so awesome! I'm really happy you're enjoying it so far, especially since you're not usually into fanfic. Seriously, that's great. But thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!_


	4. Just as Daft

_Just as Daft_

The world was still turning.

The birds were still singing.

The tide was still rolling.

Gwen was bewildered by this. She stayed up all night, walking on top of the deck of the _Dauntless._ The smell of freedom did not linger in the air or burn her nostrils. She did not see any signs that a storm was coming, no dark clouds or winds blowing by. There was a strange feeling in her chest, and she wished it would go away. And that feeling—.

"Did you understand me?"

—would probably never go away.

Norrington was brought to her attention. Gwen slowly turned to the commodore who had his arms straight against his sides. His pointed nose looked down at her as his eyes narrowed. Her eyebrows rose. "Crystal, mate."

"I am not your _mate_ , Miss Sparrow," Norrington said before turning back around and walking forward. Reluctantly, Gwen followed in his wake as her eyes warily scanned the deck, watching those who were eying them both as if they were daft. "You are to eat when I say you can eat. You are to retire in your cell every night. Every time you leave your cell you must be supervised, and when you _do_ leave your cell, it must be during the day when we can keep a careful eye."

She chuckled, holding her hands behind her back as they reached the bow of the ship. "I beg pardon… _Commodore_ , but I don't feel like you're carrying your end of the bargain."

Norrington faced out toward the sea, not sparing her a glance. "You haven't carried your end yet, Miss Sparrow. And I want to make sure that you do." Gwen slowly walked to his side to share the sight of that he had. The sea stretched before them. The salt in its breeze brushed against her face and she closed her eyes. "You are still a pirate, a criminal, under my custody and the custody of the crown until I say otherwise. In exchange for your information, your _correct_ information, you will be rewarded your—."

"I know the gist of it—."

"—This also includes not interrupting _me_."

"Right, no interruptions. Would you like to make a list of what I can and cannot do?"

"Just respect," Norrington stated. He turned to look at her with a small smile as Gwen kept her gaze forward. "For myself and the other officers aboard the _Dauntless._ " Gwen nodded her head curtly before her hands landed on the railing. Her eyes fell on it. "You have been taught _respect_ as a girl, have you not?" Gwen swallowed at the question and felt her grip tighten around the railing. It was a joke, she knew, but it wasn't very funny. The frustration for him in her veins became apparent, and she took a deep breath.

She flashed a smile that would match his, insincere and difficult. She said in a sweet voice, "I've been taught to treat one with respect when I'm treated with the same respect." Her arms crossed her chest as she turned fully toward him as she narrowed her eyes. "I'll give you what you need. You need not worry. But, I'm going to need a few things."

Norrington's smile fell and his face scrunched together. Gwen could see in his eyes that he was confused. "You are not in the position to do that."

She ignored him and went on, "I want Groves to supervise me. I like Groves."

"I was going to put Gillete to supervise you."

"I'd rather put a pistol in my mouth than be anywhere near that man." She hated him. If the lieutenant would ever take a step near her, she would… she wouldn't know what she would do, but she would do something. Gwen didn't like how he looked at her, or really just whenever he spoke. "I like Groves. If you want information, he needs to be there to soften it out of me."

Norrington blinked a few times. "What does that even mean?"

"Don't worry about it, mate." _You don't even know what that means,_ she added in her head. Before he could respond to mate, she stopped him before saying anything. "That's really all I want, everything else," she releases her hand in the air to wave it, "is just… they may come on the way. Who knows, maybe I'd want an actual _cot_ to sleep on rather than your ship's cold, wood floor."

"Groves will be in charge of you, that I can come to an accord with. And, we'll see in the coming days about a cabin. However, the other things that may or may not come in the future are out of the question. I cannot keep negotiating with a pirate."

"But after you… grant me my freedom, I will not be a pirate any longer so does that still count?" Gwen took a step toward him, her eyes looking him up and down as she smirked at him. When she did notice his tall stature, and his eyes, and… the creases his skin made over his cheeks, and his pursed lips, she noticed that he was actually handsome.

Her face softened, but his did not. He said, "No."

Her smirk fell and her arms fell to her side. "Then I have clearly lost a big handful of my dignity in order to help you hang Captain Sparrow."

"I have heard he has done worse to you."

She blinked up at him and felt her chest tighten. "That makes me wonder how you would know that."

Norrington scoffed, briefly looking away from her. "I expect you to be in my quarters to discuss strategy. I will let Officer Groves know his duties in watching over you, and you are allowed to remain on the deck of the ship until I call upon you."

Gwen took a deep breath before turning back around to face the bow of the ship. A thought briefly came into her head about what would happen if she would jump over the railing. Maybe it would make all of this easier. "I want to stay here then, thank you."

"Very well." She heard his footsteps head the other direction. Once she was left alone, she leaned her arms against the railing. What would happen if she jumped over the railing when she had the chance? The world would still turn, the birds would still sing, and the tides would still roll against each other. Gwen knew she wouldn't shatter the world, just like her world didn't shatter when she dropped Norrington's hand after she took his deal.

The idea that nothing different was going to happen made her back straighten and her head tilt up. Her fingers began to tap against the railing as they matched the new pair of footsteps that were coming up behind her. "What am I getting myself into?"

* * *

Officer Groves escorted her throughout the _Dauntless_ , taking her to whichever corner and whichever deck that she pleased. Gwen eventually ended up in the galley, lying down and facing up at the wood with her eyes shut. Her feet swayed as the ship swayed. All she could really hear was the men in the galley chattering and the almost-quiet munching of Groves across from her. "Where do you think we'll find him?" Gwen asked herself, imagining Jack to be in every place at the exact same time.

Truth be told, word of her brother was all over the place. Normally, she knew he'd be somewhere in his domain of the Caribbean, but her brother was no fool. If this Commodore had been looking for him for a while, Jack was likely in the places where she would least likely think him to be.

But what were those places? Jack pissed off someone in every port, pretty much. Where would he find solace amongst his enemies?

"Do you not know where he could be?" Groves asked, cutting into her thoughts. Gwen took in a deep breath, picking up her head and glancing over at him with narrowed eyes. He took a large bite of his apple, ignoring her glare as he chewed its bits.

Gwen said, "I hate to break it to ya, mate, but I wasn't talking to you." She fell back onto the bench and crossed her legs. She pointed her finger up in the air. "And I _do_ know where he is."

"And where might that be?"

"None of your concern."

"It will be Commodore Norrington's concern when you do not have an idea of where he could be." Gwen scrunched her nose at the response, groaning and covering her face. Before sitting up to face him, she adjusted her hat on the top of her head.

As she rose up, she propped her chin on the table. "Listen, I did not request you to be my nanny to make comments like that."

"I am _not_ your nanny."

"You are the equivalent of being my _nanny_ ,"

"Either way, you seem like you have no idea where Jack is," he pressed. Gwen only blinked a few times, pursing her lips quietly as she drew her eyes to the table. "I will ask again, Miss Sparrow, do you have any idea where C—?"

"No, I do not," Gwen said, not letting him finish. "But… last I was in Tortuga, he had just gotten _The Pearl_. So, it is a good chance he'd be lookin' for a crew. Our best shot is—"

"Tortuga?" Groves interrupted her.

Gwen chuckled to herself, taking off her hat and moving her dark hair back. She placed it on top of the wood table and hit the top of it. "How does a lad like you know anything about Tortuga?" she exclaimed with a grin. "I would have thought it to be too sinful for you loyal officers."

Despite a slight smirk on his face, Groves rolled his eyes at her. "It is the only free port in the Caribbean. The governor has doesn't care and let it fall into the hands of your lot."

Her grin threatened to fall as she blinked several times at him. "Of my lot?" she asked. The grin fell as her eyebrows rose. She turned her head to watch the officers sitting in the galley along with them. They weren't exactly _different_ from how they acted. Gwen watched a few men gathered around a table, gambling with cards in their hands. She saw men jeering at each other, mumbling curses and pointing forks at the other for some nonsense. She caught a glimpse of the slop of food that some were eating—the salt beef and a mess of veggies that were close to rotten. Gwen noticed two pairs of eyes looking her up and down as if they had never seen a woman on a ship before. It did not matter if they were officers of the British Royal Navy, they were men of the sea as well. Men of the sea who showed their greed in different ways, who also lusted, and who ate the same shit every sailor ate.

When Gwen looked back at Groves, her expression changed. A deep frown settled on her face as her brow furrowed. After sighing deeply, she said, "We ain't that different, mate."

"I'm sorry?" Her statement caught him off-guard. She could see it in how his body tensed, how his eyes narrowed at her.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Just because you and I are on different sides of the law, doesn't mean we both are different. Every man on this ship does the same thing I've seen every pirate on a ship has done. They gamble, they drink, they eat, they piss, they shit—every last one of 'em. Don't ever refer to me and any other pirate as a different _creature_. We're all human."

"You are human, but you're still a criminal," Groves said, after a moment of silence. Unsure of what else to say, his fingers drummed against the table. "You still are in the wrong, which—."

"Officer Groves," Gwen had cut him off, "how many men have you killed?"

Groves' face fell at the question. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to respond, but there were no words coming out. Gwen remained silent, waiting for an answer. But, it was a question that was clearly out of bounds for her to even think of asking. She closed her eyes before folding her hands. She said, "I once watched my Captain's first mate have his throat slit by a man, a merchantman, who was supposed to follow the law. We raided their ship, aye, but we lost that one because we were too greedy. Six of us survived, including him. He was the toughest man I knew, and he was struggling with a bullet in his leg. The Director of the EITC wanted his name, he couldn't even get it out before they killed him. I watched his body fall onto the deck and that tiny man… just stepped over it, not even looking down at it."

Gwen looked away as the image of Hobbs flashed in her head once more. "That is awful," Groves said. Gwen glanced back up at him to his eyes drawn down on the table. "But… Miss Sparrow, I'm having trouble understanding the point of your story."

"My point is, no matter what side we're on, there are always cruel men… and women. And yet, one side is allowed to be so because of their loyalty… and assumed good, and everyone on the other side, no matter who they are or what they did, are blamed," she fastened her hat on top of her head, lowering the brim so her eyes were covered, "The only difference between my side and your side is that my side chose to be free. So… do not ever refer to pirates as 'my lot.' Especially since you are to be my nanny, if you think that while watching me strategize my brother's demise, we're gonna be getting nowhere, mate."

"'Brother's demise,'" he repeated to himself, swallowing the information from her lecture down. He shook his head after a moment. "If you believe what you just said, why not stay in the life and not turn him in? Why leave your _freedom_ for _loyalty_?"

It was Gwen's turn to look puzzled at the question. Her eyes immediately go to her wrist where the 'P' was burned into her skin. She could still smell her flesh as Ian Mercer pressed the iron against it. She remembered Jack looking on in manacles, his eyes attempting to sympathize with her when it was his actions that landed her in that position in the first place. She could have been let go, she could have continued on with her life without being branded a pirate—if he had just done what Director Cutler Beckett told him to do.

It wasn't revenge. She could not name the feeling that she felt for Jack. Resentment? Maybe? She didn't know. After a pause, she answered Groves, "Freedom doesn't matter if it doesn't look like you're gonna survive to keep it."

"Well—"

"Lieutenant," Commodore Norrington's voice had interrupted their conversation. Gwen did not know if she wanted to thank him for it or be annoyed with him. But either way, he stood in front of them with his long, pointed nose looking down at them. "I requested Miss Sparrow in my cabin moments ago, and you have yet to bring her in."

"Oh, yes sir," Groves said, immediately standing up and going over to her. Instead of pulling Gwen's arm like the other officer's had done, Gwen rose up from her seat at just Groves's gesture. The officer and the pirate shared a look with one another. Gwen could see in Groves' eyes that they had a different thought about one another. "Here she is."

Norrington took a deep breath through his nostrils. "I see that," he said. "I will escort her. You should eat something." Groves only pointed out his apple that was on the table. Gwen followed Norrington out of the galley, only looking back at Groves who did not move from their lonely table. His head was bowed down as he polished the apple against his chest to continue eating it. When she turned back to Norrington, her back immediately straightened as his was.

* * *

" _Gwen?" he breathed her name. She felt frozen by his gaze. Her hands stretched out in their irons as if they wanted to break through them. Jack Sparrow stood before her. Her brother stood before wearing a uniform that almost matched Beckett's, but distinguished by certain marks that told her that all of what Beckett had said was true. He looked the same, but different. He had the same eyes she had, dark. His hair though was different. He had gotten rid of the dreadlocks, his hair was thin and tied politely back with a ribbon. He also was clean-shaven, not even a speck of facial hair showed on his chin. This was her brother, Jack Sparrow. But he was just… so different. She didn't know if it bothered her or shocked her._

 _Jack looked at her and Beckett before his eyes fell on the director. She watched her brother's face turn disgustedly at this before he demanded, "What in the bloody hell is going on?"_

 _Gwen shivered at his tone. She glanced over at Beckett to see the man not phased. "I believe you two know each other," Beckett said, his hand moving between them so casually that it made her stomach churn. "I didn't think you'd have this reaction to seeing Miss Sparrow chained like this. I'm surprised."_

" _Director Beck—."_

 _Jack was interrupted by his superior's chair being dragged out as he stood up. "Did you know that your sister is a pirate, Captain Sparrow?" he asked. Jack's mouth only opened at the remark, he only seemed at a loss for words. Gwen turned her gaze to the floor, looking down at her bare feet as she heard Beckett cross the room. The sounds of glasses clanked against one another as he poured two glasses of sherry for both him and her brother. She bit her bottom lip as she heard Beckett go on, "I have to say, Jack, I do not understand why you haven't told me. We both expressed our concerns about piracy when a member of your family engages in it. What a shame."_

" _I am going to ask you again, Director Beckett," Jack started again, with a stronger tone this time. Gwen looked up at her brother again. This time he did not look back at her. He kept his gaze away and only at Beckett as he calmly drank his sherry. Gwen wanted him to look back at her to try and understand what was going on as well, but it was suddenly like she was no longer in the room with either of them. It was just them two. It almost felt like she was intruding when she was a part of whatever the hell was happening. "What is going on? Why was I brought here like this in—?"_

" _Oh, Jack," Beckett interrupted him again, "please have a seat. There is much to discuss and you standing there brooding will not accomplish anything."_

 _Jack shook his head. "No, not until you tell me what is happening and why the…" Gwen's eyebrows furrowed as Jack trailed off, catching himself. She stared at him, almost in shock, as he shook his head again. "Answer me."_

" _Jack…" Gwen started, confused. Was he really standing there, not even looking at her, and treating her like she was a stranger? Her hands struggled against their bounds even more. Her body felt so weak. Her eyes wanted to close and her stomach growled as she sat there, unable to do anything at all. He… she couldn't believe what she was watching or hearing. At his name, Jack glared over at her, tilting his head. She couldn't read his eyes. She couldn't even try to understand what was going through his head._

 _Beckett's voice cut through, "A tense family reunion, I see."_

 _Tense, indeed. But she didn't know why. "Why is she here?" Jack finally asked. The more time that passed, the more her own questions were not answered, the more bothered she became._

" _It was funny how the both of us met, actually," Beckett admitted. He walked over to Jack, holding his glass of sherry. Instead of taking it out of his hand, Jack kept his eyes on Beckett in front of him. The height difference between the two of them was astonishing. Gwen was reminded by her earlier thoughts of the tiny man and wondered how he had gained so much power when his height was really nothing. "I was going to turn her in until she said her name. I was going to let her go, but I noticed I haven't received any of your correspondence of late and I have just received a letter about your most recent shipment. And, well, I must it admit, it angered me."_

 _Beckett tilted his head and instead of taking the glass back, he brought it to Gwen. "You must be thirsty. Drink." It was an order, not a request. With her hands restrained, she took the small glass in her hand and brought it to her mouth with much effort. She only took a small sip. "I'm not a man to be angered, Jack," he said, crossing back over to his desk. He brought himself down into his seat so carefully that Gwen had thought his body would break if he did it any other way. "So, it is a strange coincidence that we find ourselves here, all three of us. But I was interested in seeing this, two Sparrows, in one room."_

 _Jack chastised but his tone was venomous, "Well, I hoped it lived up to your expectations, mate."_

" _Not yet," Beckett said with a grin slowly coming to his face. Gwen held her breath. Nothing good was going to come out of this, nothing. She took another sip of the sherry, the liquor stinging the cracks of her lips as it went past. "We have matters to discuss. This business… I've worked hard to be in the position that I am today. I have worked with the best and have been granted this opportunity to look over the shipments that we export here. So, I think you can imagine how displeased I am with you."_

 _Her brother took a deep breath. "Listen, I understand why you are bothered. But hear me out."_

" _Oh, please."_

 _Gwen watched Jack carefully, her mind still attempting to grasp what was going on. "I wasn't able to transport anything, our ship was attacked halfway through. I had to make port somewhere to repair the damages and come back here because we had to surrender much of the cargo that we had left." She recognized his lie the moment it left his mouth. She didn't even have to be there to know that it was all made up. Beckett sat there still like he was interested, but Gwen could tell that he was unconvinced. His lip was quivering, his shoulders were tense, and his eyes looked as though they were closed as his fingers drummed against the wood of his desk. Jack should have stopped but he didn't. "I told Greene to send you something to update you when we docked, but it must not have reached you yet."_

" _Ah, I see," Beckett started. Before he did anything else, he pulled open a drawer and his hand shuffled around a few papers before he brought out several envelopes. "If I question your crew, all of them would contest to what you just told me?"_

" _If there was an absolute need to do so, then yes, they would," Jack said. But his eyes landed on the envelopes as Beckett opened each one slowly. Gwen, with both hands, placed her glass on the table in front of her, watching as well. Her body tensed as Beckett looked at each one. The clock behind him ticked its seconds before he released a loud sigh that shook her bones._

" _Then, someone on your ship must be lying," Beckett said, pushing the letters forward before crossing his arms over his chest. He only glanced down at them before looking over at Gwen. "You could read, right, Miss Sparrow? I suppose you aren't completely uncivilized."_

 _Gwen didn't know how to respond. "I… not… aye… but my—."_

" _It is just a yes or no question, Miss Sparrow. Can you read or not?"_

" _English is not my first language, Mr. Beckett," Gwen answered, lowering her gaze for just a moment. "I was taught to read it, barely, but it's not my strong suit."_

" _Captain Sparrow, please bring her those—."_

" _Beckett, this is between you and me," Jack said, cutting through. "Don't bring her into this, mate."_

" _Do as I say, Sparrow," Beckett's voice boomed through his office, startling both of the Sparrows in the room. Jack looked at both him and Gwen before slowly walking over to him. Beckett's hand reached his mouth, shaking, as he watched Jack hand the letters over to Gwen. Before giving them to her, Gwen noticed how Jack looked her up and down with a frown on his face. She saw that her brother did not know what to do, what to say. She probably would be the same way. She took the letters out of his hands with her chained ones._

 _Jack took several steps back. His gaze exchanged all the words that he wanted to say, she knew. His eyes looked apologetic, they spoke everything to her. Gwen tried to control her own shaking hands as her gaze transferred to the letters given to her. She scanned each one of them as Beckett wanted her to do. "Now," he said after a moment, "please, to your best ability, tell me what they say and if they are in accordance with what your brother has said."_

" _I…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say. Jack only stood there with his gaze transfixed on the floor. Gwen took a deep breath before doing as she was told. "He lied," she said, her voice so soft that Beckett turned his head like he didn't hear her._

" _Louder."_

" _There was no ship, he lied."_

" _Ah, so there it is," Beckett said, looking back at Jack now satisfied. "I do not like being lied to, and, as you can imagine, I do not like my business being interfered with."_

 _Jack scrunched his face as if he smelled something dreadful. He mumbled under his breath, turning his attention to Beckett's large bookcase against the door,"No one really does, mate."_

 _Beckett continued as if he didn't hear him, "I would like the truth, Jack, and because I am fond of you, I will give you the chance to tell me what happened."_

 _Gwen watched her brother's eyes shift over to Beckett, looking the small man up and down before taking a step toward his library. His hand hovered over the spines of the books that lined the shelves before pulling out an anthology that she remembered Grandmama Sparrow using to teach her English—an anthology of myths and treasures across the seven seas. Why would a man like Cutler Beckett even have an interest in that?_

 _A small smirk revealed itself on Jack's face as he opened the book, letting the pages fall against one another before landing on one toward the middle. "We may wanna speak more privately then, mate." Gwen looked over at Beckett suddenly seeing his eyebrows perk up. Interested, his back straightened, the fingers of his left hand curled to meet with one another in the middle of his palm as if he was already in thought._

 _It was just a few seconds before Mercer was called inside with the intentions of bringing Gwen back to her cell._

* * *

When Gwen entered his cabin, she immediate sat down in the seat in front of his desk. She watched the commodore pull out multiple maps from his bookcase strapped to two iron handles to keep from swaying. He would open them, his eyes would observe them, he would shake his head, and then he would put them back. Gwen began to check her hands, her own eyes examining the dirt embedded in her nails. She still felt the filth from the prison she was in, even though it was just but a few days ago since she was there. When the commodore still had his back to her, Gwen took the opportunity to slightly raise her arm, taking an almost silent sniff of her armpit. Her nose rose up in disgust.

"At the speed we are going," Norrington started. Gwen's arm fell back to her side as he turned around with a map in hand, stretched out. He continued after a brief pause, "we should hit Caribbean waters in three weeks' time, and then we shall begin our search. But where to start?" It was not a question to her, but really to himself. Gwen leaned back in her chair as Norrington walked with the map to the window at the edge of his cabin, overlooking the waves they were leaving behind.

Though it did not seem that Norrington was speaking to her, Gwen decided to answer him, "I believe Tortuga would be our best route. We can go from there and ask around. I know many a people who would know where he is and who he would be with."

"Tortuga…" he repeated back to her like the name of the island brought a bad taste to his mouth. She wouldn't be surprised if she did herself. Even though she did lecture Groves just before, Tortuga was a vile, smelly place. But it wasn't because of pirates—Shipwreck Cove was all pirates and every one of them still had more morals than the last. No, Tortuga had merchants, pirates, and even a manner of Navy folk looking for a good time. Tortuga only allowed men of all kinds to fulfill all of their desires and their lusts. Unlike Groves, Norrington seemed to understand that. He did not spit at the idea immediately. "Sparrow would likely find himself with the same company of his like, but Tortuga is not a place where my men belong."

"Lieutenant Gillete would love it there," Gwen muttered underneath her breath. Norrington did not catch her quick comment; his back was still facing her. She cleared her throat to raise her voice. "You _and_ your men can stay happily on your ship whilst I go ashore and gather information. It does not—."

"Absolutely not," Norrington had cut her off, turning around at that moment as he tore his eyes from his map. "We may have an agreement, Miss Sparrow, but I was not born yesterday. I have told you—."

"Aye, I know you have," Gwen interrupted him with a roll of her eyes. As he stood in front of her, she stood up to try and match his eye level. But the commodore towered over her and she was only able to look up at him. She went on, waving her hand dismissively, "' _You are to be supervised at all times,'_ aye, but if ye don't want to step on the island, then what am I supposed to do? No one's exactly gonna talk if I have a commodore breathing down me neck."

"Another one of our rules was interrupting me," Norrington stated knowingly. Gwen was not phased, however. She still kept her feet planted on the ground with her He placed the map in front of him on his desk that only highlighted the Caribbean. His finger pointed to Tortuga. "The moment Sparrow hear that I and my crew are waiting ashore for him he will never leave Tortuga…" James said slowly, lowering himself into his seat in thought. "You have more to worry about if your plan involves going around. We cannot make an arrest on Tortuga's soil—it's a free port, and the governor loves your kind too much to grant permission."

Gwen sat down in front of him, crossing her legs and making pretend to be the little lady that she was hoping to become after all this was done. "Then we got to lure him out—trap him."

"And how would you suggest we do that?"

"I'm not sure, Commodore, you're the smarter one," she said, smirking. She leaned back in her chair, the front legs lifting up slightly to just allow her to put her feet on top of his deck. Norrington looked down at them, his upper lip trying not to lift up into a sneer. Gwen had a slight feeling that she was beginning to go under his skin. "You can come along with me onto port, Norrington, but you cannot be wearing that get-up you got. No one's gonna talk with you around, you gotta blend in with my lot. And you gotta like it—if I can't go on the island alone since you don't find me loyal, then you gotta play a part."

Norrington's face was one of a statue. His stone-look almost brought chills through her as his fingers delicately played and flipped one of his trinkets lying about. "And what do you suggest we do if you happen to stumble on him? He'll more than likely recognize me, your brother is not a complete fool."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. But I cannot do me job if you won't allow me to go on my own. If that's truly a concern, then we might as well just scrap this entire deal."

"Fine… very well. _I_ will leave the ship with you and escort you around to question the lowliest of the low."

"Very well. I'm happy that we can come to an agreement, Commodore," she said, her smirk turning into a smile. "And if we run into him, I'll hide ya."

"Because that would work wonderfully. You're almost as daft as him," Norrington commented. He crossed his arms over his chest, while she only shrugged her shoulders. She glanced down at his messy desk, which seemed to not reflect the Commodore's curt personality. Her eyes though feel onto a piece of parchment with a broken seal, lying flat on the desk. She tilted her head curiously, hoping to get a better look at it, but Norrington swiped it away before she had a chance. Gwen immediately straightened herself and looked up at Norrington who had a fake smile of his own. Her brows knitted together confused.

Almost immediately, Norrington said, "You could leave now, Miss Sparrow." Gwen's mouth twitched, carefully watching him for a moment, attempting to see through it. But, he had almost an unreadable expression. She gave a curt nod and reluctantly stood up to leave.

* * *

 _Hello everyone! I know this update is very late, but I am happy to be back. I deeply apologize for not writing or posting anything sooner, over the past few months, I've had a lot of personal issues to sort through at home after I graduated and I didn't know how to balance this and that. Now, that I'm working full-time, I'm still learning how to balance everything but I am getting there! Writing on my own is definitely an escape, and I'm happy to say that I will try to be updating more regularly, even while working on my more original works that I plan to publish later on in life._

 _I'm also blown away by the amount of support I am getting for this story! Thank you to all those who reviewed, favorited and the followed. They were all so nice to read and they put a smile on my face. I would reply to you all, but I'm tired and I have to get up early in the morning, so I sadly am not able to tonight. But you all are so awesome!_

 _I will be making more updates soon! The next chapter is halfway written and planned, so be on the lookout. If you want to know any updates or any sneak peeks, you can follow my facebook page-the link is on my profile! I'm also planning on doing a blog about writing, with some poetry and book reviews (this isn't up yet though), and I will be updating everyone on my more original works!_

 _Thanks again, and I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter! :)_


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